Table for Two
by Aria Illusine
Summary: Itachi wanted to have some time to himself after a clan meeting. Sakura had had a rough day at the clinic. They both wanted dinner at the same restaurant. But when said restaurant had only one table open when they arrived, the two acquaintances were thrown together to find that perhaps neither had really wanted to sit alone. NonMass ItaSaku


Hello, all! Do not fear that because I've written a oneshot, my chapter fics were being thrown to the wayside this week! I'm midway through the next chapter of Belonging and a couple of my other works, so hopefully Friday's update goes as planned. Hopefully this oneshot, a plot bunny that kind of materialized while I was bored and studying, is pleasing to read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, manga or anime, but it'd have made me very happy if I had...

* * *

**Table for Two**

Itachi loved his family. Truly. Dearly. When faced with the choice of killing his family for Konoha's safety, he had, at an age when male adolescents tended to avoid authority figures, chosen to take the case to the Hokage. The clan's discontent and plans to take over the village had been curtailed with a minimum of bloodshed and only a number of angry words on either side. He respected his father, loved his mother, watched out for his younger brother. His feelings of care extended, as the clan heir, to all Uchiha members.

But that didn't mean they didn't try his patience to the breaking point now and again.

Clan meetings were the worst, especially when one of their own had passed on in the line of duty. While the Uchiha were not typically gregarious by nature, there _was_ a very tight-knit bond that existed between the members. Though Itachi had not known Shigeru-san well (the man was – had been – a second cousin's nephew and three years his senior) he had been grieved by the loss of a clan member and moved to hear the eulogy the man's sister had written in his honor. That she had read it out without breaking down was to her credit.

The loss of a clan member never failed to remind him that, in a different universe, he must have chosen another path and killed them all. Even years later the memories rose up like ghosts of the dead to haunt him of could-have-beens. Any death in the family rankled like a half-healed wound being reopened. They put him in a less than tolerant frame of mind.

So when one of the clan elders had brought up that this passing should remind them of the duty everyone had of strengthening the Uchiha clan in every way and all eyes had turned to him…

It had taken a prodigious amount of effort on Itachi's part to contain his anger.

A voice of icy rage had filled his head then, demanding to know why the querulous, old man was using the death of a good shinobi to prattle about such paltry things. The very force of his ire had, ironically, shocked him out of his temper, but the whole ordeal had left him rather drained. It hadn't helped that, after Itachi had said nothing in his own defense, his father had turned slightly in his seat and _looked_ at him.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the family's feelings. He was twenty-seven, an active duty ANBU captain, and spent more time outside Konoha's walls than in them. He was also the clan heir and would one day replace his father as clan head. In fact, from the little his father said on the matter over the dinner table, Fugaku was looking forward to passing on the mantle. His mother supported the idea not only for her husband's sake but because Itachi would be taking fewer missions that put his life in serious danger. Even Sasuke, who was occasionally a bulwark of support for the older brother he had always hero worshipped, thought it a good plan because it meant _he_ wouldn't have to be the Uchiha Head.

Betrayal on all sides.

Weary and in no mood to discuss the clan meeting's proceedings with his family – they had all been there and would only beat the dead horse into the ground in ways that Itachi did not intend to sit down for – the ANBU captain slipped out of the complex and into the gloaming as only a skilled ninja could. He was not being a coward, he was just…cooling his head. A tactical retreat.

However, this meant he had to make his own plans for dinner.

Had his cousin been in town, Itachi would have dragged Shisui out for one of their rare sake nights. They might have gotten convivially drunk, or at least convivially tipsy, and Itachi would have had one man who would be sympathetic to his plight. He would have had no more than to mention the topic before Shisui would have the bit in his teeth and go on and on, getting more loquacious the more he drank, about how Itachi was cruelly served by their family. Shisui championed Itachi's cause almost more than Sasuke, and liked any reason to have a good long harangue at the elders' pressuring.

But Shisui was out on a mission and wouldn't be back for a week, and by then the whole thing would be old news. There would be no point in dragging it out to air that grievance once Shisui got back.

And there was no point getting genteelly intoxicated without the company of someone he was truly fond of and deeply respected. The only other person he could think of for this duty was his fellow ANBU captain from a long while back, Hatake Kakashi, and well…Itachi had heard through the grapevine that a new volume of Icha Icha had come out today. Dragging the silver-haired man from his book would be an impossible task.

So rather than embracing inebriation, Itachi considered dinner. Thinking back to his usual nights with his cousin, he ran across a memory that had nearly disappeared under the golden haze of alcohol several weeks back.

They had been pleasantly buzzed at this point, celebrating something or other that he could now no longer recall. Walking mostly in straight lines down Konoha's lamp-lit streets, Shisui had stopped dead to sniff the air. The man nicknamed Body Flicker had then declared that he could smell truly delicious tempura being cooked and insisted on trying some. Itachi had figured his cousin drunker than usual, but had gone along to humor him.

Surprisingly, Shisui had been right.

With unerring accuracy, he'd led them both down a couple of alleyways to a small establishment that, however meager in size it might be, was doing a fairly brisk business. The smell of hot oil and the sizzle of frying batter filled the air, making Itachi's mouth unexpectedly water. He hadn't been loath to follow his cousin into the shop for a bite, and they had proceeded to devour more tempura than should have been accommodated by the human stomach.

It had been delicious, and he hadn't even regretted it the next morning when the staggering amount of grease he had consumed made him sluggish and unwilling to get out of bed. Or perhaps it had been the slight hangover. With that much fat in their stomachs, Shisui had declared they could take even more alcohol, and had proceeded to test the limits of his liver's functionality. Itachi had been a little more reserved, but not by much.

Speeding through the treetops, Itachi made decisive tracks in the restaurant's direction. Even a night of serious drinking could not erase the shop's location, not when it was that good.

Unbidden, the memory of biting down on that crisp batter to have it split apart and steam in their mouths to reveal insides of vegetable or shrimp, had Itachi swallowing, his mouth suddenly watering. He went faster.

* * *

Sakura was tired. Burned out. Fatigued. She was _hungry_. Her lunch had long since become a fond memory and, as the end of her shift had approached, Sakura had found herself rhapsodizing about food.

Sweets. Oh, sweets were her favorite. Anko-filled dumplings slathered in tooth-achingly sweet syrup. Luscious, green tea ice cream. Caramel coated slices of apple sprinkled with salted bits of peanut, the contrast of sweet and salty intensifying each to a practically euphoric degree. Thinking of salted peanuts made her mind drift to other salty things, like umeboshi, pickled plums that were sour and salty and crisp, one of her favorite foods. A bag of potato chips, flavored with grease. And grease made her think of…tempura.

Sakura had found the most appealing little tempura bar months ago after a very rough day at the clinic much like this one. She had practically stumbled down the hospital steps and had only discovered the place on taking a wrong turn on her way home, something that had occurred because she'd been too bone weary to pay attention to where she'd been going. The proprietor, a middle-aged man that reminded her of an uncle she'd never had, had been out lighting the lanterns that hung over the shop front, taken one look at her, and invited her inside for something to eat.

As the only patron at that hour, still too early to be called dinnertime, Sakura had the enjoyment of peace and quiet and the quietly congenial company of Kazuo-san. He had gotten her cold tea and then proceeded to ply her with three plates of tempura until she was stuffed and much recovered. And then, in spite of the modest size of his restaurant, a place that could not possibly do very much business, he had refused to take her money as payment saying that he'd only done what any good man would have done.

Sakura, much embarrassed and warmed by his kindness, had declared she would bring her friends next time and make up what she owed him. With the girls in tow and a couple of well-placed comments to Ino during the course of an evening a week later, the shop had suddenly found business booming in spite of its out-of-the-way locale. Kazuo-san, in turn, had dubbed Sakura his good luck charm and doted on her. If she ever found her way there, he had a plate of her favorite potato tempura on her table before you could say _itadakimasu_ and never failed to say a kind word.

And the potato tempura…all of Kazuo-san's tempura…

The petite medic found herself swallowing a moan of longing lest she embarrass herself in front of her patients. She was doing one last round, hoping to find nothing that would require her attention. She was already almost tapped out in terms of chakra; she wouldn't be able to heal anything more complicated than straightforward cuts and broken bones. Those didn't require the finesse that reconnecting severed nerves or chakra pathways did.

Had she found herself like this while serving her stint in the ER as she had during the wee hours that morning, she would have immediately taken herself off the roster. It was tantamount to sabotage to be the lead medic there without chakra at her command. Others would have trusted her to be able to rival Shizune and her shishou, a trust she would have betrayed had she let herself be depended on when she could produce no such feats.

Thankfully, during her ER rotation that morning, she had been fully charged and as energetic as someone could be at three in the morning. She had managed to keep two jounin alive long enough for them to be picked up by the medics in surgery, and then she had led a Healing Resuscitation Regeneration Technique, the same medical jutsu that had been used to heal Neji after his run-in with Kidomaru years ago. It had left her decently drained, but her control and stamina had increased over time to the point where she was able to finish her ER rotation and still be fit enough to put in time for a second shift, this time in one of the recovery wards.

It wouldn't have brought her chakra levels so low if one of her patients hadn't somehow reopened the injury that had put him there in the first place. That had had her wrist deep in intestinal perforations during her break, and then it was all she could do for a little to sit and sip water and crunch a soldier pill. It was enough energy to then continue her rounds and do many low-level healings on those under her care, but at the end of her stint in the hospital she was _starving_.

Like a haunting ghost, the memory of her favorite potato tempura seemed to beckon, begging her to eat them. She was definitely visiting Kazuo-san's tempura shop for dinner tonight.

Her stomach growled like an angry bear, and it was with utmost relief that she turned from her last patient to see Shizune striding down the hall in her direction.

"You're free to go, Sakura," the older woman said with an understanding smile. "I've just clocked in."

Sakura groaned with pleasure, and hunger, and just plain relief. "Thank you, Shizune-san. I'm so ready to get some rest."

The other medic nodded and made shooing motions. As Tsunade-sama's other pupil and the only other medic besides Sakura to have an arsenal of medical jutsu comparable to the Godaime's bulk of knowledge, she could head nearly the entire hospital if need be. She could certainly do the duty of head medic in every ward as Sakura did, and had if what she had heard from the nurses was anything to go by. It was no wonder the girl looked so dead on her feet. Shizune hoped Sakura got a good meal and a solid eight hours rest, preferably as soon as possible.

Sakura was looking forward to just that in just that order. After a quick scrub in the changing room, pulling on clean clothes that felt like a heavenly gift, she was out and away from the hospital before anything could occur that might need her attention. She felt a little like a coward but… Food! Rest! They were irresistible and she didn't want anything standing in her way to either.

Her feet led her down a now-familiar series of streets as she hurried determinedly in search of dinner. She had come here often, mostly after grueling days at the hospital, but sometimes with Kakashi-sensei and the boys after a mission together. It was her version of Naruto's ramen obsession, though a good deal more toned-down. As she swung around the street corner, she noted (not for the first time) how incredibly popular this shop was now.

The cheery yellow lights from the interior flooded out into the street, throwing dark shadows across the path. Bright red lanterns, the ones Kazuo-san had been lighting all those months ago, danced above a large sign that read Kazuo Tempura. Laughter and conversation filled her ears with their beguiling music, the sound of camaraderie and people having a good time. There was a small line extending out past the door, a line of people chatting gaily as they picked up tempura orders or waited to be seated by the hostess, Kazuo-san's wife.

With a sigh of longing, Sakura hurried to stand in line, almost colliding into the back of the person at the end in her haste.

Though she didn't cannon into him, she did manage to catch his attention, and she found herself blinking in surprise as she came face to face with her teammate's older brother, Uchiha Itachi.

"Ah…sorry about that Itachi-san."

"It is all right, Sakura-san."

They lapsed into silence, because this was what they did. There was not and had never been very much conversation between the two of them, their relationship stringently defined first as teammate's-older-brother/little-brother's-teammate, and then as medic/patient. When Sakura had been slated, by her skill and training under Tsunade-sama as well as her connection to Sasuke, to become the medic who personally took care of Uchiha clan injuries, they had gotten to know each other a little better. She now called him by his given name, citing that it would be confusing to call _everyone_ Uchiha-san. Itachi had agreed to this, as he had always called her by _her_ given name.

But aside from the usual communication that passed between a medic and patient, inquiries about the nature of their injuries and a general scolding for failing to stay in the hospital until actually discharged, they said little to each other.

And today both were more than a little preoccupied by the thought of food, especially when standing in line for a table and surrounded by the delicious smell of fried things. In fact, they were so preoccupied with the thought of food that neither of them realized as the tables within dwindled until Itachi was at the front of the queue.

"Good evening, sir," Kasumi, Kazuo's wife, greeted with a polite bow, "How may I-oh! Hello, Sakura-chan!"

Itachi glanced from the hostess to the medic standing in the line behind him, a look of surprise evident in the delicate lift of a single eyebrow. It clearly said, 'You know this woman?' with a touch of amusement.

"Hello, Kasumi-san," Sakura replied with a cheery smile, she could always find one for this kind-hearted lady, before flashing Itachi a diffident smile. "I'm a frequent visitor at this tempura shop," she explained.

"And the reason we do such a brisk business these days," Kasumi-san interjected, giving credit where it was due without reserve. "So," she continued, as if her comment about business had reminded her of her duty as hostess, "Table for two?"

"Oh, no! No, we came separately," Sakura said, just as Itachi replied with a polite, "No, we are not together."

"Oh…oh dear," Kasumi murmured, now a picture of apology. And even before she opened her mouth, they both knew exactly what she was going to say. "I regret to have to inform you both that there's only one table available right now…"

* * *

They were adults. They were acquaintances. They could very well sit down and have dinner together like civilized people. Sakura might have been tempted, for a split second, to quibble and maybe go so far as to wait for another table (after all it was hard to imagine them chattering about nothing as they waited for food) but the tempura was just too tempting to resist. And Itachi had bowed his head and stated that they could certainly share a table…and so they were.

As if to apologize for having thrust them together like this, Kasumi was quick to take their orders personally, one plate of potato tempura and one of mixed veggies for Sakura, two of mixed veggies, one of shrimp tempura, and a small bottle of sake for Itachi. It was after she'd left to place their orders with the kitchen that the awkward silence descended.

This _was_ their first social situation.

Okay, it was their first if you didn't count events at the Uchiha compound that Sakura, as Sasuke's teammate and best friend had often been invited to. But all those had had a buffer of other clan members between them and they had never had to say two words to the other. Thrown out of the practical setting of their usual conversations, usually ones about Itachi's health, they descended into silence.

Normally, Sakura might have attempted saying something. After all, she was hardly socially awkward. In fact, Sakura considered herself to be a decent conversationalist. She had been called vivacious on occasion. However, tonight she was too intent on dinner and food and filling her stomach with something other than a soldier pill to pay any attention to the silence. She sipped the ice water she'd been given in an attempt to fill her stomach a little, to quiet its melodramatic grumbling, as the smell of the tempura shop made her feel positively hollow inside.

It was Itachi, strangely enough, that felt the silence more keenly. Sakura was distracted by hunger, but Itachi found himself to be distracted by her silence. She was a rather sharp contrast to his cousin, Shisui, the only other person he had ever gone to this tempura shop with. He had almost always seen her reticent rather than gregarious around him. It was as though she matched her temperament with his instinctively, something he had noticed her doing with other patients in the hospital. Bedside manner, or something of the sort.

When she was with those she was more familiar with, she was rather more ebullient, more like Shisui but with less knowledge of clan politics and sake. Though she was the Godaime's pupil, she had not inherited her shishou's penchant for alcohol as far as he was aware. She had not ordered any for herself, and drank sparingly when at clan functions. She made him miss his cousin, and yet, at the same time, not.

Sakura had no knowledge of the kind of pressure the clan put on him. In this moment he could pretend it didn't exist and just enjoy delicious tempura with an amiable acquaintance.

Itachi had just opened his mouth to actually converse with the girl seated across from him, when Kasumi-san, still flushed with an aura of apology, whisked to their table with their plates of tempura. The Uchiha heir closed his mouth abruptly, instead busying himself with breaking the wooden chopsticks set out for him.

Sakura, too hungry to really bother, snatched up a piping hot piece of tempura, dipped it into the sauce bowl, and bit down with a muted noise of pleasure.

Across the table, Itachi chuckled.

Surprise widened her eyes, a flush skating across her pale cheeks as she tried to wolf down the bite of tempura in her mouth without appearing too unladylike and explain just why she was being so unmannerly.

But Itachi obviated the need to do so by giving her a polite smile and saying, "I assume you have had a long day at the hospital and are much in need of sustenance."

Sakura coughed delicately into her hand as she swallowed the last of her mouthful, blushing as she nodded in response. "Lunch seems hours ago, especially since I have been working since midnight."

The male seated across from her raised an eyebrow to indicate his surprise, taking a bite of his own dinner and swallowing before he replied, "Even though you are the Hokage's apprentice, I am amazed by the hours you put in."

"It's only sometimes that I have such grueling shifts," Sakura reassured him, finding her cheeks were now flushed by Itachi's compliment. "It's not the hours – well, part of it is the hours," Sakura amended, "But mostly it was keeping very injured shinobi arriving in the ER alive long enough to hand them over to the surgery staff."

At the mention of this, Itachi, about to say something, instead chose to bite into another piece of tempura. She was hardly blind to this change of pace; Sakura had become very attuned to the little emotional cues that shinobi gave over the years she had spent as a hospital medic. It was part of what allowed her a good bedside manner (unless the patient was one of her close friends, whom she had no compunction in intimidating into good behavior when under her care) so she didn't let the moment pass.

"Is something the matter, Itachi-san?"

Perhaps she ought to have been more subtle. The Uchiha heir's expression suddenly looked much like Sasuke's when he had his "mask-face" on, something Sasuke did when he didn't want to talk about something much and didn't appreciate her asking about. With Sasuke she could generally pester him into conversation and sometimes even help him with the problem, but his brother…she hardly had the right.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Sakura apologized. "Please forgive my rudeness." As if to emphasize that she didn't mean to ask things out of turn that way again, she took a large bite of potato tempura and sat chewing in silence.

Any offense Itachi might have taken by her forwardness was mitigated by her swift response and retraction of her question, and if he was completely honest with himself her actions had been, well, cute. Adorable. Innocent. Something he would not have expected from a kunoichi who spent half her time dealing with healing and death in the hospital, and the rest of her hours creating craters in the training grounds.

And perhaps it was the effect of the sake he'd been drinking (though he'd only had a cup so maybe not…) but he found that he didn't mind answering her question.

"There was a clan meeting today," he explained softly, speaking for her ears alone in this crowded and noisy tempura shop. "I am not overly fond of clan meetings, but I especially do not enjoy them after a member of the clan has died in the line of duty."

"I'm…very sorry for your loss," Sakura said, the words from the hospital coming automatically. But then she shook her head, her brow furrowing as she continued, "No, that doesn't even cover it, does it. Those words…they sound like an empty formality, don't they."

"Aa," Itachi agreed, and for a second they shared a moment of understanding that closed them in a bubble of calm and quiet amid the bustle of the restaurant, a single moment of kindred spirits recognizing each other.

And then the moment was gone as the rest of the world once again reasserted itself, filling the space with noise. Itachi shrugged. "It is a loss for the clan, a hard one as each member lost is, but I did not know Shigeru-san very well. It is not nearly so hard for me as for his immediate family."

Sakura nodded to that, but added, "I still think it must be difficult for your family. As the head of the clan, every member is technically under your care, so each death is harder for you all."

Itachi's obsidian gaze was full of regret as he murmured, "I think so too."

Impulsively, Sakura reached across the table, her fingertips almost to his wrist before she remembered herself and paused. An internal war between her rational self (that screamed this was the heir of the Uchiha clan himself and a very composed man who might not appreciate the gesture of kindness) and her caring medic self (the part of her that fiercely argued back that this was Sasuke's brother and a man for whose wellbeing she was responsible for) ensued that left her fingers hovering on the cusp of truly touching.

Not unobservant in any way, Itachi once again anticipated Sakura's thoughts by gently bridging the gap and squeezing her fingers in a reassuring way before drawing back and severing the contact. "Thank you, Sakura-san."

Her reaction was to match colors with a tomato and snatch back her hand, her gaze resolutely avoiding his as she munched down on a piece of fried carrot.

Itachi hid a smile behind a serene mask. Sakura was proving to be quite amusing.

But he was also tactful enough not to aggravate a powerful kunoichi who was also his family's medic. Shisui had done that once with his flirtatious ways, and the next time he'd come in for healing (the very next day, as it would happen), Sakura had vindictively healed him without utilizing any of her nociception dampener chakra techniques. Having to endure bones popping back into place without anesthesia jutsu was punishment enough to satisfy the strawberry-haired medic in a huff.

Changing the subject, he asked after how her training was progressing, and was rewarded by the flash of relief in her eyes as she met his gaze to answer. Their conversation picked up, Sakura's responses both intelligent and interesting as she detailed the things she did to hone her taijutsu abilities. Itachi found he did not regret having introduced this new topic as they debated the merits of various fighting styles. Sakura had the unique perspective of seeing what the aftermath of various techniques looked like, and could discuss from a medical standpoint, which were most devastating to deal with.

But he was surprised to hear that she thought genjutsu and psychological techniques to be the most frightening.

"It isn't that there's much to heal, physically, if the shinobi manages to break free of the genjutsu before his or her opponent does a lot of damage," Sakura explained seriously, a half-eaten piece of deep-fried green bean between her fingers. "But the mental damage…there aren't many techniques developed yet that can deal with that kind of trauma or a loss of self-belief. It can create mental blocks that last long past physical injuries. We're looking into re-immersing the patient into a similar genjutsu, but that sort of recreation is…time consuming."

Itachi considered this a while, contemplatively munching away at a shrimp as Sakura finished her own fried legume. As a proficient genjutsu wielder and Sharingan specialist, the results of his work were something Itachi considered often, but never in such a setting. It appealed to the pacifist in his nature, and he found himself responding before truly considering his words.

"If I could be of some assistance, I will offer my services."

"Will you?" The surprise and pleasure in Sakura's face was unmistakable. "It's…it can be long hours sometimes and the genjutsu will have to be tailored to each patient," she warned, trying to be certain the Uchiha heir knew what he was getting himself into.

But his answering nod was not the least bit fazed by this. He _hadn't_ known that s what it would take, though he had guessed, but he found he did not mind. The course of action had the added benefit of making his dinner partner beam at him in unadulterated pleasure. How often did he see such an expression on anyone's face, especially direction toward him?

Of course, there were always women who had expressed interest in him to…some degree…

But this woman wanted nothing like that from him, no status or title, just his abilities as a shinobi. It warmed his soul.

Itachi found himself responding with a small, but genuine, smile of his own.

In this companionable sort of goodwill they finished their meal, saying little until the check came around…

And Sakura discovered herself to be several ryo short of her total.

"I'm so sorry, Kasumi-san! I can't believe I didn't realize I didn't have enough money to pay for my tempura!" she apologized, her cheeks flushed with distress.

"No, no, Sakura-chan, this will be on the house then," the hostess reassured her. "You've come to eat at our shop so often, and if it weren't for you we might not be doing such good business."

"Please, I can't let you-,"

But Sakura's protest was interrupted by a soft, male voice that cut across the words of both women with a gentle but firm, "I will pay for Sakura-san's meal." And without even letting her argue with him, Itachi paid the tab in full and rose from the table. "Kasumi-san, Sakura-san, thank you for a pleasant evening."

The hostess bustled away, realizing from the look on Sakura's face that the young kunoichi was going to need a moment to recover. When she next looked over from her vantage point at the register, Sakura was already chasing after the young man.

Kasumi smiled to herself as she tucked the money into the register.

* * *

"Itachi-san!"

She'd caught up to him quickly, not that Itachi minded in the least. He wondered if perhaps he had been hoping for just this response from her when he had made such an abrupt departure. Certainly, she made a rather appealing picture with her cheeks flushed from emotion and in an outfit of her characteristic red and pink. It was even better that she wasn't wearing the beige cape-like thing that most medical ninja wore, as it would have been obstructing and just a little bit awkward to sit across from that over dinner.

"Itachi-san! You didn't have to pay for my dinner, at least let me pay you back," Sakura said, her lips making an adorable moue of discontent.

"Maa, it's fine," Itachi reassured her. But noticing the argumentative look that had crossed her face at his words, he quickly added, "How about paying for dessert."

"Dessert?" For a moment Sakura seemed daunted by his words, but she quickly recovered, her eyes like two pieces of jade as they gleamed in the moonlight. "Very well. What do you want?"

The mischief that flashed across his face was gone too fast for her to be certain it had even been there in the first place, but she suspected her eyes had told her the truth when he replied with a nonchalant, "I do not know yet. I will have to see."

She found herself matching step with him, possibly because he took smaller steps so as not to outstrip her with her shorter legs, as they meandered through the alleys of Konoha in search of sweets. There wasn't much of an abundance as the tempura shop wasn't by very many other stores, but Itachi did not seem fazed by this, his pace easy as the sounds of the evening filled up the silence between them. When she chanced a glance in his direction, she noted that he seemed…contented. He could easily have had her pay him back the next time they met, or asked her to give her money to Sasuke when she saw him. So why had he asked for dessert instead?

Had she had the temerity to ask the Uchiha for his reasons…well he probably would not have told her, but he would have thought to himself that this evening had somehow turned right around sometime during dinner. And he was rather loath to let the night end.

Dessert had just been a good excuse at the time.

They kept walking, and walking, and somewhere along the way Sakura realized that they had stopped really looking for a shop that sold desserts, their conversation light and casual and comforting. It…it bothered her, and a small part of her mind kept asking why Itachi never seemed particularly interested whenever they passed a dango shop or an ice cream parlor or a stand for cake bakery. But she was too distracted by their debate (this time about whether Sakura ought to apply for ANBU that summer) to put much effort into wondering about it. It wasn't until they were barely a street away from her house that Sakura felt the need to say something.

"Itachi-san, we're almost to my place and I think this is the last place we can buy dessert before we get there," she remarked almost diffidently. They were standing across from a convenience store and the best they were going to get was pre-packaged ice cream or something similar.

"Aa, I do not mind."

Which was how they found themselves browsing through the ice cream cooler in the narrow aisle of the convenience store.

"I like this pineapple sherbet. What would you like, Itachi-san?"

"Hn. Green tea mochi ice cream."

When they stepped out of the store again, Sakura was delicately licking at her sherbet cone as Itachi chewed an ice cream-filled mochi. Companionable silence descended again, this time because their mouths were full, but neither party minded. It gave a gentle feeling to the end of their night together, unexpected as it had been. They had been thrown together and somehow come around all right, the gap between them slowly closing from acquaintanceship to the beginnings of an actual friendship. Each had found something they hadn't thought they would that night, and as they walked to block to Sakura's modest apartment it clung to their minds, creating a warm impression in their thoughts.

And then the sudden advent of Sakura's door brought them back to the present, away from their thoughts to the solid reality that the two of them had spent a truly pleasant evening together. Awkwardness filled the once-friendly silence.

"Well…thank you for dinner, Itachi-san," Sakura mumbled, feeling suddenly shy and wishing the pineapple sherbet hadn't been so tart. The ice cream coated her tongue in sugar, making it unwieldy as she stood feeling tongue-tied and apprehensive.

Itachi nodded, quietly thanking her for dessert and to consider that there was no debt between them. But the words felt unsatisfying, and he paused as he turned to go. Sakura was still standing there, her viridian eyes growing confused as he merely stood, saying nothing, his gaze trained on her. Itachi wasn't certain why, but the evening had put him in a much calmer frame of mind. Just being with Sakura had been rewarding, much more so than he would have expected. And they stood on the cusp of possibilities, to go back down the well-trod path that was their relationship as a medic and patient with nothing more complicated than a couple of personal questions for hospital records, or to go forward and perhaps learn what this night had revealed about themselves. All things could change in a few words.

Itachi turned back to face Sakura fully, taking in the way her eyes widened slightly in surprise that was at the same time pleasure.

"I would like to do this again sometime."

_owari_

* * *

This story somehow wrote itself for the most part...aided along by late nights and scribbling in my journal. Personally, I enjoyed the slow pace of the story, even though there was very little romance in it. Still, this might just become a series of oneshots (though I'm trying to stave off the plot bunnies as I attempt to finish older works) showing their developing relationship. Maybe.

Please feed the muse by writing reviews ^^

Aria, out.


End file.
